


You're Allowed to Hurt

by AKAuthor



Series: Under New Light [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dead Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Pepper Potts as Rescue, Peter Parker Feels, Peter and Pepper are bros pry that out of my dead hands, Peter doesn't know how to grieve, Post-Endgame, Precious Peter Parker, Sort Of, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, but I wish he wasn't, its all crying guys, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAuthor/pseuds/AKAuthor
Summary: Love doesn't end when someone dies. Peter learns this when he finally breaks down after pushing grief away.





	You're Allowed to Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This has been bouncing around in my head for weeks making me depressed so I decided I'd depress all of you with it. Let me know if you cried cause I sure did.
> 
> Separate from the timeline of this series - a stand alone piece.

Peter knew what breaking felt like. He knew what crumbling, vanishing, and aching felt like; the forever-there memories that still hurt deep and the tiny flickers of flashbacks to the worst days of his life that played on a loop in some dark corner. 

Breaking, crumbling, hurting - none of it was new. It was old, old and annoying and so terribly familiar to the sixteen year old. He perched on a roofs edge and stared out over the city at night, trying to ignore the throbbing in his chest and the bright lights behind his eyes and the echoes of voices he’ll never hear again. And then they scream over the car horns, flare brighter than the city lights, and then they come tumbling out of him.

For the first real time since it happened, Peter cries. Not simple tears, but he sobs hard enough to gag, screams at the reflection of his suit in a murky puddle, and collapses in on himself as though it will pull all the pieces of everyone he’s lost back together. Crying makes it real, letting it hurts means he’s gone, just like him, and him, and her. 

_ Tony, Ben, Richard, and Mary _. 

Four little bits of him that sat heavy in his chest and weighed him down. Two hurt, three felt cruel, but four? Four is anguish. Four is mocking him and ruining his life, pulling away at the people who loved him and left him. 

Peter has always been logical and pragmatic. Perhaps once he believed Uncle Ben when the man soothed his hurt and tears and told him that no matter where they were, his mom and dad loved him. And then he lost Ben, and he lost the ability to believe in holding onto that love. 

It felt like it had been ripped from his chest, watching Tony slump and grow still, quiet. Peter felt heavier than ever and lighter like he was going to drift away. One more person who loved him was gone, and they took a bit of him with them. 

Peter wailed into his hands, barely refraining from screaming. He was so sore, so broken, and so upset. He sniffed wetly and scrubbed at his face, only for the river of tears to continue to drown his face and blur the brightly lit image in front of him. A vigil, a shrine, a temple, almost. It’s red and gold, bathed with candles and so many flowers it’s impossible to get within ten feet of the mural that had appeared just two weeks ago. 

Peter likes this one; he likes all of them, even if they make it hurt just a little bit more. There’s one not far from his apartment that he passes most days, littered with everything from broken cell phones to an Iron Man childrens helmet that had been signed with farewells until only the eyes were unmarked. Stark Tower, despite now being named something completely different, is inundated with graffiti and murals and flowers and memorials. Every lower part of the building has been drawn on or signed or had flowers attached precariously. And the new owners? They water the flowers and keep the pictures and wall art clean. 

It hurts Peter so bad to see everyone fine, normal, living when he’s lost too much already, lost so much in his life that his aunt is now in a state of constant worry for him and messages him once an hour whenever they’re not at home together. How horrible, to be so filled with bad luck that the only family terrified for him is his aunt, because the rest are gone.

He sobs again, feeling the collar of his suit - the suit he feels sick looking at but can’t seem to stop wearing - grow damp with his tears. He chokes and gags on another bout of frenzied sobbing.

He heaves out a breath and god does it sting and ache. Like cold air is funnelling into the empty places that used to be filled with the love of parents, of caregivers, of Mister Stark, his mentor. The tears won’t stop coming now that they’ve been allowed to fall and Peter stays huddled on the roof, hiccuping out sobs and wishing he wasn’t _ Peter _. 

A very familiar sound rushes towards him, iconic and remarkable and Peter snaps in two as the Rescue suit gently touches down beside him and lets it’s owner out. There’s none of the flare or the drama or the sarcastic quips but perhaps it’s for the better, perhaps it’ll help Peter fill his hole-punched heart with helium or cement, which ever one he finds first.

Pepper Potts - _ Pepper Stark _ quietly comes to sit beside him. Peter likes Pepper, he adores her and he’s pretty sure he always has. Her perfume is the same, something expensive and floral and entirely unique which makes Peter suspect it’s custom made for her, and her nails are clean and short as they pull his trembling hand into her own. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter blubbers through tears and snot and more tears. He doesn’t know what he’s apologising for but maybe Pepper does.

Pepper, who has not looked away from the mural across from them - some teenagers are tacking up art-deco posters of Tony beside it - smiles tiredly. “It’s okay, Peter.” She tugs him a little closer and rests her cheek on top of his head, where it’s weighing on her shoulders, soaking her shirt in salt water. “It’s very pretty up here. I haven’t seen this one,” she says after a moment. 

Peter sniffs. “Uh yeah, it’s newish I think,” he says, running a thumb under his eyes. By newish it’s been up for a two weeks, having been put up a two and a half months after -

“It still hurts,” Pepper comments. “Don’t know how to describe it though.” Peter looks up at her. 

“Like something’s missing from your heart?” he offers up. 

“Yeah.” Pepper considers. “It feels a bit like that.” 

Peter takes in the growing monument to his idol for a while, trying to match his breathing to Pepper’s. “How’s Small Mongoose?” He asks. 

“In her mongoose bed. Happy’s at home with her,” Pepper tells him softly. “He has an alarm set, you know. In his lab. I… I can’t go down there, but it just started beeping like mad and Friday told me it’s an alert for when you’re distressed. She piloted me here.”

It hurts a little bit more to know that even dead, Tony is looking out for him and has protocols set at his house for when Peter’s distressed. He’s dead and gone and he’s on walls and tv and_ still looking out for Peter. _

“You didn’t have to come,” Peter says, wiping at his nose. “I’m not your problem.” That’s a little bit cruel but Peter can’t let it be anything other than true for the sake of his poor heart and all it’s missing bits. 

“I think I did. I think you’re trying to hide away from everything, Peter,” she says. And she’s nothing if astute, damn near omnipotent. “You’re allowed to hurt, Peter. It’s okay to cry and scream about it, god knows you’ve got enough reason to,” Pepper comforts. 

And the floodgates open wide again, this time quietly and gently in the arms of Mrs Stark. The Rescue suit is standing vigil behind them, eyes lit and empty, gauntlets as lax as possible at its side. Peter looks away, quelling a wail that tries to burst in his throat and stutters on sobs. Pepper is crying too, his hair is starting to get wet where her cheek rests. 

She hugs him tighter. “It’s okay, Peter. You can hurt.” 

“I miss him so much and it’s like everyone’s watching me for suicide watch or expecting me to step onto a pedestal and front up. But I can’t, I can’t do it,” he cries into her neck. 

“The people who matter don’t expect that, Peter. They expect you to grieve and hurt, and cry and breakdown. That’s what-” she takes a breath. “That’s what everyone did when it happened. Everyone but Tony, who came back and held onto you and his grief until it broke out, just like this.”

Peter pulls away and watches the woman with red eyes. She smiles sadly at him. 

“I know you both better than you think. That’s why you need to know that it’s okay to be sad and cry. You hurt and it’s allowed to happen.” 

“It’s like he’s taken everything with him,” Peter admits with his head bowed. “I thought I would get used to mom and dad being gone and eventually I did, and then I lost Uncle Ben and it just got worse. Heavier and lighter at the same time, you know? And then Mister Stark - _Tony_, just pulled out what was left in there. I just feel so empty without them.” 

“So you try to ignore the feelings to ignore the emptiness?” Pepper guessed. Peter nodded. She pulled him into another hug, this one brief. “I think you misunderstand what happens to love when someone dies, Peter. They don’t take it with them, they leave it with us, in here,” she guides his hand to her collar bone where her heartbeat is steady. “And in here,” she presses his hand to his own chest. It’s still beating, it hasn’t broken or crumbled or vanished. “He isn’t gone where it matters most. And you’re allowed to miss the part that is gone.”

Peter can’t take his eyes off of Pepper’s hand. “You…?”

She chuckles softly at him and runs her free hand through his hair just like Tony did. “He liked to talk about you all the time. Kept that photo of you on his work bench. And he missed you just as much as you miss him. He wouldn’t like watching you bottle up and implode. You’re stuck in the family now, like it or not.”

Peter finally breathes in and slumps. He’s tired of crying and missing people but he’s also not quite done grieving yet. He knows that now. They sit in the chilly New York air sometime longer, watching the candles around Iron Man’s face dwindle. 

Pepper stands and offers her hand to Peter, who gratefully takes it and let her guide him up. “You have to come and see Morgan soon, she’s asking for you,” she says as they reach the blue and gold suit. Peter’s eyes start stinging just looking at it and seeing the trademarks of it’s creator decorating it with brilliance. 

“Uh, yeah, I’ll swing by sometime soon,” Peter croaks out. Pepper steps into the suit slowly but doesn’t let the face plate close, instead she takes a minute to look at the distant stars and high-rises around them. 

“You know what? I’ve never really flown this properly. I only flew it when I first trained in it, but it’s mostly Friday piloting. Should we go for a joyride?” Pepper’s eyes have a familiar playful glint in them. Quietly, then growing louder ACDC begins to play through the suit. Peter knows Pepper prefers movie scores and gentle melodies, and he himself lives for the newest music out, but for now and for this, ACDC is perfect.

Peter finds the ability to smile properly somewhere inside himself and grins at her, already engaging his mask. “Race you to Coney Island!”

  


And if the news the next day was reporting on the late night antics of Spider Man and the Rescue Suit racing through the city airspace with ACDC blasting, then Peter was okay to let himself cry some more. He was allowed to.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers let me know what you think. Or don't it's chill.


End file.
